


Our Suits

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Steve Rogers Drabbles [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Swearing, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: feelmyroarrrr asked: How about Steve x reader, she's the person who makes and mends his armour. He sees her after a mission where he got stabbed and has a hole in the armour because he's made an adjustment on his own and she tells him off as he could have been killed. He realises she's worried because she cares not because the armour got damaged and maybe a kiss and ask on a date?





	Our Suits

## Our Suits

* * *

“What… the _fuck_ … is that?”

Steve’s immediate reaction was to mutter, “Language,” though he was a little concerned as Y/N wasn’t one to swear like that. She was sweet for the most part, though intensely protective of _her_ suits. 

She had been designing and fitting him for the Kevlar laced costumes since his return to the field and was damn good at her job, but even though they were _his_ suits, his to wear and be protected by, she had a tendency to claim them as _hers._

“Don’t you pull that nineteen forties _my virgin ears can’t take a little swearing_ bull shit! What the hell is that?” She jabbed her fingers firmly into his side where the blood had stained his suit near the slice in the Nomex fabric. 

“Dammit!” He jerked away and grabbed for his side. “It’s a knife wound, Y/N! What’s it look like?”

“Why do you have a knife wound there?” She stepped closer and batted his hand away to poke and prod at the suit. “Wait… what’s… this isn’t right,” she muttered and shoved his arm up into the air. 

Steve grunted, the action jerking on the already healing wound. “You know that hurts, right?”

“Shut it, Steven Grant Rogers! What did you do to my suit?”

She didn’t bother to look up when she chastised him, her fingers running over the entire length of his rib cage, around and across his abdomen, over his chest, and she ducked behind to traced the lines on his back.

He tried not to react physically to her unintentional groping, but what he could feel through the suit, felt damn nice.

“Well… uh…” he hedged. “I may have… made some modifications.”

This time her head did snap up and there was such a look of holy fire in her eye, he felt real fear.

“You…” she hummed, anger pouring off her in waves, “ _modified_ my suit?”

“Technically… isn’t it my suit?”

“Lift your right arm.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Lift your right arm!” she bellowed.

As she was currently standing beneath his left, he did so slowly, cautiously, well used to the tempers of fiery women. He watched her warily as she skirted around in front of him and took a long, hard look at his side. 

“What you doing, doll?” he asked only to have her draw her arm back and punch him firmly in the side beneath his arm. While it didn’t hurt him, much, her hand was another matter altogether as she yelped and shook it vigorously. 

“What in the world was that for?” he barked, grabbing her hand.

She jerked her hand away. “You modified my suit! My suit! You big blond… _dumbass_!”

“As I’m the one wearing them, I think that makes me qualified to modify my own damn suit!” he snapped, tired of her attitude. 

“Qualified?” she gasped and stared up at him before she slammed her palm against his chest. “ _Qualified_? Did you spend your life studying the human body and how it moves in order to best design and build body armor? Have you practiced _daily_ in order to be the _best_ at molding and shaping Kevlar to fit a person’s frame? Do you know how to make Nomex so tight a weave it can deflect bullets?”

“No, but I-”

“I’m not finished!” she shrieked, making him flinch. “I spend _hours_ watching film of your missions to make _absolutely_ certain I know you. I know how you move. I know the openings you leave-”

“I don’t leave openings,” he scoffed.

She grabbed him by the wrist and jerked his arm up. “Really? Really, Cap? Then what the fuck is that?”

He flushed, embarrassed to be called out. 

She turned away and gripped the table behind her in her workroom so tightly her knuckles went white. “I work… _really_ hard to keep you safe. I lose sleep over it. Is it enough? Is the Kevlar going to hold? Is the Nomex too tight? Is there enough range of motion? What if something slips? What if I… what if I miss something and you get… you get shot? What if you end up dead because… because I screwed up?”

“Y/N…” Steve said softly, coming to the realization it wasn’t the suit she worried about, but him. 

“And now you come in here with a damaged suit and a knife wound because _you_ took it upon yourself to modify my _damn_ suit!” She swept everything off her table in a fit of pique.

Steve’s strides had him at her back in less than a second, his hands coming down on her shoulders so he could drag her into his chest. “I’m okay, Y/N.” When she took a hard, shaky breath, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped his head to lean his cheek against her hair. “I’m right here.”

“You could have died…” she whispered. 

“I couldn’t do that,” he chuckled softly. 

“Why not?” she asked. 

He hugged her tight then turned her to face him. “It would be pretty foolish to die before I could ask you out.”

She blinked in surprise. “You want to ask me out?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “I’ve always thought you were a smart, beautiful dame. Just never thought you had any interest in me besides my suits.”

“My suits,” she whispered, her gaze drifting down to his lips. 

“Our suits,” he murmured and dipped his head to kiss her, gentle, soft, and chaste. A gentleman’s kiss. 

“Wow,” she sighed when he lifted his head. 

Steve grinned. “So, about that date?” 

“One question first? Why’d you modify the suit?”

“Uh…” He reached up and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Well… it was… itchy.”

Her eyes grew incredibly round. “Itchy? You ended up taking a knife because your suit was _itchy_?”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t the smartest move,” Steve grumbled, his cheeks and ears feeling hot. 

She sighed and thumped her fist on his chest. “Okay, I’ll see about making it less _itchy_ for Mister Delicate prior to your next mission.”

“Great. Now… about that date?” he asked, grinning as he pulled her in again. 

“Yeah, Steve. That would be nice,” she smiled shyly. 

“Great! Dinner, seven. I’ll pick you up.” Steve bent and kissed her a second time, feeling a little giddy. He darted toward the door when she nodded but paused in the doorway. “Hey, doll? I’ll get your suit back in a bit and swear I’ll ask you to do any modifications in the future.”

“You’d better, Steve,” she quipped, crossing her arms and grinning.

He turned to go but spun back around and smirked. “Oh, and doll face?” He waited until she was peering at him curiously before striding swiftly back toward her and cupping her face. “Just so you know? It’s been a long time since I had _virgin_ ears,” he nipped her bottom lip sharply and whispered, “Or anything else.”

Her knees quivered as she clung to the table behind her. “Wow…”

“Dinner. Seven. Don’t be late.” Steve nipped her lip a second time, gave a seductive growl, and walked out with a pep in his step. 

“Our suits,” he heard her mutter as he walked away and couldn’t stop the big foolish grin from spreading across his face.

- ** _The End-_**


End file.
